


A Friend In Need

by SeasonOfMists



Category: Earth 2 (TV 1994)
Genre: Bess Martin&Devon Adair, Class Differences, Female Friendship, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeasonOfMists/pseuds/SeasonOfMists
Summary: When your friend needs you, you ditch the husband for an evening and bring the alcohol with you to her house. It's a universal rule, even 22 light years away from home.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	A Friend In Need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janetcarter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janetcarter/gifts).



> Hi janetcarter! Thank you for the chance to write about one of the canons still closest to my heart. Not to mention writing from a character perspective I've always wanted to try out. I hope you enjoy the attempt. Happy Valentine's Day!

John Danziger nodded towards the closed front door. "Adair's in a mood," he warned.

Bess Martin smiled sweetly at him. From the annoyed expression on his face, Devon wasn't the only one in a mood. The two of them had that effect on each other. Bess tapped the basket dangling from her arm.

"Then thank goodness I'm here," she said.

Danziger glanced over the contents of the basket. "That what I think it is?"

"A bottle my best batch yet? Yes, it is," Bess told him, proud of her effort.

The man grimaced. "Just don't get security involved this time. Please."

Bess's smile turned mischievous. "No promises," she drew out the words. She brushed past Danziger, walking onto the porch.

"Bess."

"Go home, John," Bess called over her shoulder.

Danziger set off down the trail leading into town. Bess waited until she no longer heard the sound of crunching shells under his feet. Then she knocked on the front door.

"The door is open."

Devon sat on her living room couch, massaging her head with her hands. Even from the doorway, Bess saw the tension Devon held in her shoulders. Whatever she and Danziger fought about, it upset Devon. Badly. Bess made a mental note to have a chat with John. Devon was a force of nature, but even she could only handle so much in a day.

"Devon?

The older woman sat up straight. She wore her "how may I help you?" smile. The smile faltered and faded when she recognized Bess. A genuine smile took its place. "Hello, Bess," she greeted.

Bess walked into the room. "John said you were having a bad day," she said.

"Did he tell you that he contributed to my bad day?"

"I figured as much," Bess admitted.

She looked down at the small coffee table between them. A discarded Gear set laid atop several datapads. The Gear was still in projection mode: in pale blue light, blueprints stacked one over another in an intricate pattern. The design was beautiful, but Bess doubted Devon invited her over to talk about architecture.

"Do you mind if I move this?" Bess asked, waving her hand to indicate the mess on the coffee table.

Devon reached for the Gear. "No, go ahead. I can't look at this anymore tonight, or I might delete the whole thing and start over tomorrow." Devon hit a button, and the blueprint folded itself up and flickered out of existence. She swept up the data pads and carried them, and the Gear set out of the room.

Bess set her basket down. She pulled a small bottle out. Two small glasses followed. "So, earlier when you told me what a bad day you were having," she explained, raising her voice so Devon could hear her words, "I knew exactly what we needed." She uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount of shiny, silver liquid into each glass.

Devon came back in and retook her seat. Bess pulled an armchair up to the coffee table. Once she settled in, she handed Devon one of the glasses. "So here we are, just what the doctor ordered..."

"I doubt Julia would approve of this."

"...Mama K’s best homebrew. A little different thanks to different natural ingredients but still guaranteed to make you feel good."

Devon set her glass down untouched. "Bess, as much as I like the thought of drinking ourselves silly, I don't think we should."

Bess believed that they very much should. She also suspected that Devon was looking for an excuse to give in. Bess considered how to give her one.

After a moment, she hit on an idea. Devon admitted to growing up with a romanticized version of life on Earth. The thought offended Bess at first. Over time and many miles traveled, she changed her mind. Devon's childhood fantasy became a running joke between them. Bess had no problem using the old trick again if using it helped her friend make up her mind.

"Devon, where I come from, it's bad manners to refuse to food or drink freely offered to you," she mock scolded.

"You're making that one up."

The old belief was right, but Devon didn't need to know that at the moment. Bess gave her friend an innocent look. "Am I?" Devon sighed and picked up her glass. Bess grinned and picked hers up. "Drink up, princess."

"Fine," Devon said, clearing her throat. "A toast..."

"No toast," Bess interrupted. "You just throw it back and let it slide down your throat. Like this." She tilted the glass against her lips, bent her head back, and swallowed the drink in one gulp.

To her credit, Devon began well. She drank the alcohol down in one quick, smooth motion. Then she sputtered out a breath, her face flushing red across her nose and cheekbones. "Bess," she said, her voice rough around the edges, "I think you just tried to kill me."

Bess laughed. "Awww, come on, Devon, it's not that bad. Back home, we gave this stuff to kids."

"Kids," Devon repeated, disbelief in her voice. "You gave this to children."

She and Devon had reached an understanding. Yet, there were still moments when Bess bumped up against the differences between Devon's childhood and her own. "I suppose that seems irresponsible to you," she acknowledged her friend's apparent confusion. "We figured if a kid was old enough to work the mines, then they were old enough to have a drink if they wanted one."

Devon looked thoughtful. "I imagine it was safer than drinking the water."

A memory came to Bess. Her cousin became so thirsty he drank from a stream of sludge flowing down a mine wall. Three days later, he was in the infirmary. Bess held his hand as a medic pulled parasitic worms from his stomach.

Bess pushed the memory away. "We boiled the water first before brewing," she said. "The fermentation process killed whatever survived the heat. Mostly." She poured out two more shots. "But I'm getting off-topic. Here."

She handed Devon her glass back. In return, Devon vigorously shook her head no. Bess picked up her own glass and smiled in a challenge. "A Citizen can't let an Earth-res out drink her, can she?"

In the past, Devon would have launched into an indignant speech about class distinctions no longer applying to a new world. Like Bess, the experience made Devon reconsider some of her previous assumptions. She became aware that classism was alive and well in New Pacifica. In public, she was not afraid to call someone out on their choice of words. Among her friends, Devon was comfortable enough to take some teasing.

"Perish the thought," Devon said in a wry tone of voice. "Bottoms up."

They drank. Bess immediately poured out two more shots. Devon groaned in protest, waving her away. Bess would not be put off. Devon had asked for a girl's night to relax and have a good time. That was what Bess intended to give her.

That and probably one hell of a headache in the morning.

Devon picked up her glass. "Fine, but I'm making a toast this time."

Bess knew when to give in. She raised her glass in acknowledgment.

Devon cleared her throat. "To a _former_ Earth-res and a _former_ Citizen who are full-fledged members of our odd little colony." A smile pulled at her mouth. "Despite what some uptight shanks might have to say about it."

Bess laughed. One of her favorite discoveries about the elegant Devon Adair was that the woman could swear like the most experienced man in the mines when she chose to do so.

"Can I add something?" Bess asked. Devon nodded her approval. Bess tapped her glass with her little finger. It was another old Earth tradition, one she’d shared with loved ones in her old home. One she now shared with loved ones here, in this new home.

"To us, who also became the most unlikely of best friends."

"Hear, hear." Devon tapped her little finger against her glass.

They drank, in good company.


End file.
